Counting Back From Ten
by Fuwakateema
Summary: He just watches because there is something about her, something in the set of her mouth that makes you think she's about to say something that could change your life.


Title: Counting Back From Ten (1/1)  
  
Author: Jess (Fauquita@hotmail.com)  
  
Category: CJ/Josh pre-admin  
  
Rating: Strong R  
  
Spoilers: Slight ITSOTG.  
  
Disclaimer: NBC and TPTB own everything.  
  
Notes: I stole Bradley Whitford's characterization of Josh as an 'emotional cripple' because I thought it was very apropos. 'Nuff said.  
  
Thanks: One word Sidalicious: zerbeluva.  
  
*TEN*  
  
The third hour of silence, but who's counting, and her arms are still folded tightly across her chest. He glances at her from time to time, but mainly keeps his eyes on the road because he's never been good at fixing things like this. There've been debates, and arguments, and all-out fights, but never this cold, jarring quiet. It's unnatural.  
  
The sky opens up, and as if summoned by CJ's stony expression, hail pelts the windshield until he is forced to coast the car to the shoulder of the highway. He curses and slams his hands against the steering wheel because they were supposed to be in New Hampshire yesterday.  
  
She tenses beside him and he thinks maybe she's waiting for him to lash out at her again. He hates that there's nothing left to say because 'I'm sorry' is stuck in his throat and 'You were right' has never come easily.  
  
He spends the fourth hour of silence waiting for the storm to pass.  
  
*NINE*  
  
"I don't know what else you want from me, Josh. I already apologized for getting us lost, but-"  
  
"Pull over. I'm driving."  
  
"You don't think you're over-reacting just a little? We're back on the highway now."  
  
"I don't care. I'm scared the next time I wake up we'll be in Wisconsin."  
  
He hates that he sounds so petty, but he can't seem to stem the harsh words, their edges sharp like daggers. She sighs in resignation, and glances at him quickly before turning her eyes to the roadside signs, looking for the next exit.  
  
"You know what I think?" she asks suddenly. She doesn't wait for him before continuing, "I think this is about more than my sense of direction. I think you're pissed at me because I wouldn't sleep with you last night."  
  
"And I think you're a lunatic."  
  
"I seem to remember a conversation we had not too long ago, Josh, wherein you, my friend, decided that it would be better for the campaign if we weren't sharing a bed. You can't take it back for one night because you're feeling a little lonely. It doesn't work like that."  
  
He doesn't know why he feels the need to hurt her, only that suddenly the car is too small for his ego and the truth.  
  
"I swear to God, CJ, sometimes you're not even worth talking to."  
  
He's created a vacuum, and no sound permeates the space between them. He desperately wants to suck the words back in, wants to erase the abject hurt on her face. But this is CJ, and before he can blink, she masks everything she doesn't want him to see with a tight smile.  
  
"I see," is all she says as she puts the car in park.  
  
*EIGHT*  
  
The motel is questionable, shabby and glaringly cheap, but the hour is late, and there isn't much to choose from in Burlington, New Jersey. CJ stretches and Josh trains his eyes to the ground instead of looking at the way her t-shirt rides along her ribcage. He's only human, however, and he wants her with an urgency that is overwhelming.  
  
The desk clerk is pushing seventy and looks up in boredom when they enter the building. "What can I do you for?" he asks.  
  
And just like that, Josh breaks his own rule. "One room, double bed."  
  
CJ scoffs in disbelief beside him and places her elbows on the desk. "What he means is two rooms, single beds," she corrects quietly.  
  
He won't meet her eyes, and he thinks in that moment he'd like to be swallowed by the ground.  
  
*SEVEN*  
  
She's waiting for him at the airport, which surprises him, but really shouldn't, because she's left messages on his cell phone, and sent a beautiful card that made his mother cry. Of course she's waiting.  
  
She doesn't say anything, hugs him, kisses his cheek, pulls away before he has a chance to. She waits until they're in the car before placing her hand on his thigh and squeezing gently.  
  
"I'm sorry, Josh."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
They fall into a comfortable silence until the heat of her hand becomes too much. He sighs into the empty space, taps his fingers restlessly against the dashboard, and finally decides to confront the issue head on because it's what she deserves.  
  
"Listen, CJ, I think we should stop seeing each other."  
  
"You mean seeing each other naked," she replies without missing a beat.  
  
"Yes. I just think-"  
  
"You don't have to explain, Josh. It's fine."  
  
And he's desperately relieved because he doesn't know how to tell her that he has already begun needing something more from her than her body.  
  
"I just think it'd be easier if we were friends."  
  
She snorts slightly, but still smiles. "Well, I don't think that's true, but if that's what you want." She squeezes his leg once more before returning her hand to the steering wheel, and he pities himself for envying the damn thing.  
  
*SIX*  
  
Things have spun out of control, and suddenly, every thought is of the next moment they will be alone together. He has drowned in her, and his work is beginning to suffer. There has never been a moment in his adult life when he hasn't breathed politics--until now--and soon, someone is going to notice, and he hopes to hell it's not CJ.  
  
She's like a foreign language he doesn't speak, and he can easily see himself spending the rest of his life learning to decipher the hidden words in the tilt of her head, in the bending of her elbow. She would never allow it, and he doesn't have the strength to fight that particular war.  
  
Something's got to give.  
  
*FIVE*  
  
He's intoxicated by the endless expanse of her toned legs, by the graceful curve of her back, by the elegant way her hair falls against her neck when she throws her head back. He's dreamed of this for months, but the reality is so much better than anything he conjured up in his mind, and when she moans against his ear, he forgets everything that has come before.  
  
Of course, hours later, when the sun begins making its way into the space between the curtains, he curses himself and wonders why he ever thought this was a good idea. He doesn't want another girlfriend, thinks Mandy was the last in a long line of failed campaign-relationships. He gently extricates himself from the sheets, scrubbing at his face as he searches for his clothes.  
  
"This is your room," she says quietly.  
  
He jumps slightly, turns to meet her amused smile. "What?"  
  
"I was just saying that this is your room, and you know, eventually you'd have to come back to pack."  
  
She doesn't seem upset, even smiles affectionately at him as she sits up against the headboard. "Don't make this more complicated than it is, Josh. I'm not looking for any declarations, or commitment. I had fun last night, but you're not my type."  
  
He laughs his relief, settles back in the bed and arches an eyebrow. "And what exactly, Ms. Cregg, is your type?"  
  
"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. And then there'd be all sorts of questions about where I hid your body, and quite frankly-"  
  
He silences her with a hard kiss, and she laughs into his mouth.  
  
*FOUR*  
  
He watches her intently across a table, across a room, across two hundred people at a rally. He just watches because there is something about her, something in the set of her mouth that makes you think she's about to say something that could change your life. So he watches and waits because it's bound to happen soon and he doesn't want to miss it.  
  
*THREE*  
  
They're in Albuquerque, or maybe it's Algodones, Josh can't remember right now, but he's pretty sure they're somewhere in New Mexico. The sixth state in as many days and they're all starting to look the same from the bus. The smoke from CJ's cigarette curls between them on Sam's balcony until everything is clouded. He likes the way her mouth purses when she takes a drag, likes the faint trace her lipstick leaves on the gold insignia, wants desperately to inhale the air she has held in her lungs.  
  
"The Governor did well today," she says to no one in particular, twisting her hair off the back of her neck.  
  
"He can do better," Josh replies quietly. In the silence that follows, broken only by the cicadas in the surrounding trees, he wonders why he feels the need to point out the obvious. She doesn't seem to mind though, because she passes him the bottle of wine anyway. Of all things, this is what he likes most about her.  
  
*TWO*  
  
He watches Mandy shove her things into a suitcase from the edge of the bed, thinking that maybe he's gotten off easy, because all of the other times they've broken up, she's shouted and thrown lamps. She moves swiftly, angrily, and this time, Josh is sure she's not coming back. And he won't ask her to, either, because there's finality in the slamming of the door, and for once, he doesn't care. He thinks this is progress.  
  
Later, her absence is noted, but not questioned, and he suspects they've all seen the resignation letter she stapled aggressively to the community bulletin board. Well, it wasn't so much a resignation letter as a litany of Josh's fault in colorful language and limericks. Someone, CJ he thinks, tactfully removed the memo before he arrived, but he knew of its existence beforehand because Mandy called him from the airport.  
  
He wonders if he is, like Mandy said, emotionally crippled. He sits through the meeting dissecting every serious relationship he's ever had and absently noting the smooth skin of CJ's midriff revealed every time she reaches her arms up to put another tack in the map.  
  
*ONE*  
  
He knows he's in trouble when she walks into campaign headquarters, looking like Beverly Hills and smiling like L.A., because all he wants to do is touch her. She's dressed casually in a long skirt and tank-top and her bronzed shoulders glisten in the sunlight slanting between the blinds. He doesn't think she's exceptionally beautiful, not even pretty really, but there is something in the way she commands attention that stirs him.  
  
Mandy kicks him slightly beneath the table, and CJ gives him a quizzical glance when she takes his hand in greeting. But then she is drawn away to meet the governor, and he watches her retreating back, wishing his hand was on her elbow instead of Toby's.  
  
That night over drinks, they argue passionately over Abigail Bartlet's image, and even when he calls her a feminista and she calls him an ass, his eyes focus on the shape of her lips. He hasn't felt lust like this since he was a teenager, and he thinks it must be plain to everyone because Mandy glowers at him and Sam watches CJ like he's trying to divine her secret.  
  
~*~  
  
It ends, as most things do with him now, in a hotel room. He thinks maybe he should just let her go to her room, sleep off the ache in her back and the words he couldn't speak earlier, but when she won't even look at him in the elevator, he knows he has to repair the damage he's done.  
  
He doesn't ask to come in, and she doesn't exactly invite him, but she doesn't close the door, so he takes this as a sign. She sits on the edge of the bed, expelling her weariness in one long breath.  
  
"I was out of line," he says quietly.  
  
She raises her hooded eyes to his and says, "Yes."  
  
"I don't know how to explain it, CJ. I meant what I said, you know, about not sleeping together anymore. But sometimes I look at you, and I just.God, I don't know. And you were right, because I never imagined being friends with you would be so hard."  
  
"You're going to have to adjust. I'll be damned if I let you treat me like shit just because you have some physical hang-ups." She's angry, and her eyes flash dangerously.  
  
"It's not that easy! My God, you have no idea how hard it is sometimes for me not to press you against a wall and just-"  
  
She chuckles slightly. "But that's all it is, Josh. You lust after me, but you can get sex anywhere. I'm just convenient."  
  
"And what if I said I had feelings for you?"  
  
Her eyes widen slightly and she shakes her head. "Well, I'd say either you were lying or misguided."  
  
He sits beside her heavily on the bed. "I'm confused as hell, CJ, but I know what I feel."  
  
She puts her hand solicitously on his back. "After what you've been through, Josh, it's not unusual for-"  
  
"Please don't bring my father's death into this. That's not what this is about. I think I could love you."  
  
"No, you think you could come to love me. There's a difference."  
  
He buries his face in his hands and groans when she puts her arms around him. "You're not helping any."  
  
"Listen to me. The Governor is going to win this, and then we're all going to D.C., and God willing, we're going to change some things. In the meantime, you're going to pull yourself together and remember who you are."  
  
"And who's that?"  
  
"Joshua Lyman, political operative extraordinaire and everyone's favorite jackass."  
  
He joins her in laughter, but sobers when she pulls away. "Where do we go from here?"  
  
"Well, you'll go back to your hotel room to take a shower and get some sleep. And tomorrow, you'll buy me breakfast and we'll go over the press release for Philadelphia."  
  
He smiles, just slightly. "And after that?"  
  
"After that?" she repeats quietly. "After that, we take it one day at a time."  
  
"I guess I can live with that."  
  
She walks him to the door, hugs him once more, but before he pulls away, she whispers, "If you ever talk to me the way you did in the car again, I'll snap you like a twig, Lyman."  
  
And she would, of that he has no doubt.  
  
~Fin~ 


End file.
